i want to be a ukulele un-tuned on the shelf

the ukulele is un-tuned on the shelf. i want to 
break the neck off gently the way your might
boil a pot of crayfish. i want to sleep longer
till it hurts & my eyes become two shell fish 
to be pried open. i don't miss sleeping next to 
each other. o! the ceiling light with its three bulbs--
two went out this week. this is a small room.
i'm playing ukulele with everything but my
fingers & the fan keeps the silence away & by silence
i mean the hushed noises of a house in the morning.
i never hear these neighbors & it troubles me
that i never want to. i'm not curious about them
though occasionally we'll meet in the stairwell.
if i never left this room i could last for longer
than i might think. i could tune the instrument
& learn a song to sing to the light bulbs. i could
mark my height on the far wall like a child who 
had this room before must have done-- each line
near my waist & then just below my chest 
if i stand up next to them. o! how strange time is
that i know this other human from the crayon marks on
the back of the door & a stuff toy i found in the closet
but they will not know that i have a ukulele on the shelf
that i've never played & that barely exists.
i'm tying my hair in knots. i'm missing train after train
as i listen close to hear the horns as they pass.
no, i'm not going anywhere today but it still feels
like i'm missing them. i wish i had a car parked
down there on the street but i don't. the town
is waiting for me full of cigarette butts 
& slumped trash bags & here i am in a room wonderful
because it has no windows. o! window i don't have 
i can feel the blinking. there is nothing 
i want more than to be folded. there is no greater
feeling than the need to pull a tongue out
& watch it turn into a wonderful banana slug.
no one should ever wake anyone else up. there's never
enough room. i'm looking forward to the other end 
of my body & i'm standing to do nothing but feel
the carpet under my feet. all the gender neutral words 
sound empty of skin. person. human. being.
i want to be a ukulele un-tuned on the shelf with no 
possibility of being touched in the near future. 
i want nothing asked of me. i want a loosening
& to feel the vibration in my teeth. i want wood.
i want smoothness. i want the sun to exit through
a window i don't have.